


If You Were The Sun, I’d Look Until You Were All I Could See

by angelsfallingdeancatch



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfallingdeancatch/pseuds/angelsfallingdeancatch
Summary: Stan loves Richie, he has since they were kids, but it’s no use. Richie isn’t out, and worse, he loves Eddie. He’ll settle for finishing his college work alone in his room, thanks.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	If You Were The Sun, I’d Look Until You Were All I Could See

Stan completed his math homework approximately thirty minutes ago, and he had just been doodling little faces on the back of the paper since then. Swirly smiles here, maybe straight hair there. He gave one face glasses, black-rimmed and heavy, covering most of the drawing’s features, and sighed. He needed to stop thinking about Richie, it was futile. 

Richie might be some kind of gay, but if Stan had to guess he was so far into the closet he was friends with moth balls. And even if Richie did drag himself into the light, what would it matter for Stan? Richie was in love with Eddie, he always had been, he always would be. And who was Stan compared to Eddie?

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Stan braced himself for his RA to be snippy or rude to him, but it never came. There was just vibrating silence in his doorway. He put down his pen, mouth opening to tease Richie about how big and magnetic his presence was, but cut himself off when he caught sight of Richie’s face. 

Richie was  _ scared. _ He wasn’t looking at Stan, he was studying the floor with glassy eyes and clinging to the door with white knuckles. 

Stan turned to face him, grimacing. “Rich?”

His voice must have snapped Richie into action, because he was flinging himself on Stan’s bed and talking a mile a minute. “Hey, Stanny boy. What’s up? The temperature, I’ll tell you what. Our school needs better air conditioning! At least--”

“Richie.” Stan’s voice wasn’t exasperated, it was worried. There was no joy in Richie’s words, he sounded so nervous that Stan was expecting a panic attack. “What’s wrong?”

Richie curled in on himself and didn’t answer for a few beats. All Stan could see of Richie’s face was some of his eyes. They were peeking over his arm at Stan, and Stan badly wanted Richie’s eyes to always be on him. He wanted to make Richie feel safe. 

Figuring that Richie wasn’t going to answer, Stan moved from his desk chair and laid down next to him, tugging at his shirt so he would turn and face Stan. Richie responded, though he looked guilty as he wrapped around Stan’s middle. 

Stan was a patient guy, so he waited while he pet through Richie’s black curls, trying to calm him. Whatever Richie was dying to say, it was pretty big to Richie. Stan could respect that. 

“I like boys!” Richie exploded sometime later, and if Stan wasn’t so used to Richie’s exuberance he might have screamed in surprise at the outburst. Richie was hiding his face in Stan’s shoulder, thick glass pressing hard into Stan’s collarbone. 

Stan hummed in understanding and continued to play with Richie’s hair. “That’s cool, Rich.” What else was he supposed to say? When Richie didn’t say anything back, he tried again. “Join the club, we can make matching jackets.”

The silence that was met with made Stan second guess saying that, but he didn’t have time to apologize because Richie was looking right at him, face wet and red.

“Oh, Richie, hey,” he whispered, using his shirt to wipe away his tears and help Richie clean off his glasses. 

“I was so afraid and you made it so easy,” Richie admitted, slipping his glasses back onto his nose and blinking owlishly at Stan. After a minute he added, pointing at him accusingly, “you never told me!”

Stan snorted. “You never told me either?”

Richie huffed but gave Stan a small grin as he settled back onto Stan’s shoulder and put his arm back over Stan’s stomach. Stan’s heart was gonna race out of his chest. Richie was just gonna stay like this?

Richie was drawing small circles on Stan’s hip and he hoped that Richie didn’t look down because the attention was making him excited. How embarrassing, what if Richie thought he was gross? The crush that he’d hidden since childhood was going to be found out now, in college? 

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan shook himself out of his circular thought patterns and looked over at Richie, surprised his face was so close. “Yeah, Rich?”

“What if...what if I liked someone?”

Stan gave him a rueful grin, trying to shove down the jealous heat in his belly. “We all know you like Eddie, dummy. That’s not news.”

Richie frowned, stopping his movements on Stan’s side and clutching Stan’s shirt instead. “I do like him, yeah, but I like someone else, too.”

Stan froze but let his eyes wander back to Richie’s. He looked earnest. 

“What if I like you?”

Stan blinked at Richie, the color rising in his cheeks. “Don’t be stupid.”

Richie tugged Stan closer by his handful of shirt, looking livid. “I’m serious, Stan! I like you. A lot.”

Stan hated himself for it, but he wanted to believe Richie. Badly. “You aren’t fucking around with me, Rich?” Fuck, he sounded so vulnerable and small. 

Richie’s eyes softened and all Stan knew was _ Richie Richie Richie. _ Richie was kissing him, and it wasn’t drunk and sloppy and it wasn’t during an argument with teeth and yelling. Richie was kissing him with soft lips and languid motions like he had all the time in the world. And he did. Stan would give him all his time, always. 

Stan let out an embarrassingly needy noise and kissed Richie back, hands coming up and cupping Richie’s face. He thought Richie would tease him for his reaction but Richie whined back and kissed him a little deeper, licking at the line of his lips until he let Richie in. Richie was holding him against his chest, like he didn’t want Stan to go anywhere else. Like he didn’t want Stan to leave. 

They pulled apart to breathe and Stan stared at Richie, eyes wide. Richie looked drunk on him, kept his gaze easily and didn’t wilt under Stan’s intensity. 

“What if I more than like you?” Stan challenged, surprising himself with some bravery.

Richie’s answering smile was blinding, and Stan wanted to see what smile for the rest of his life. He was gonna make Richie smile like that every day if he could.

“Then, I’d have to say that I feel the same way.”

Stan shoved him, suddenly playful, because Richie was gonna make him say it. He  _ wanted _ to say it. “I love you, Rich. I’ve loved you for so long.”

Richie’s lips were on his again, and he was being pressed back into his bed as Richie crawled on top of him. “I love you, Stan, baby, you have no idea.”

_ Baby. _ Fuck. “Richie, you’re gonna make me all--” he waved his hand around and squawked when Richie kissed his wrist. “Emotional!”

Richie chuckled and settled on top of him, petting his hair this time. “That’s okay, I’m pretty overloaded myself. We have time, baby.”

Stan was struck, again, with how much they’d grown up, with how sweet and annoying Richie was. Annoying because he knew what Stan needed to hear, annoying because Richie was looking at Stan like he was the sun.

Stan held onto Richie, and adored how Richie held him back. Solid, and stable. Stan had so many fears, and questions, but more than anything, Stan had so many hopes. 

Richie was right, they had time. 


End file.
